Time On My Hands 7
by Laura W
Summary: Eight months after Voyager's return, someone has an epiphany. Despite the tag, this is definitely J/C.


**NOTE:** This is the seventh ficlet written for the VAMB "Time On My Hands" challenge. They need to be read in order, and can all be found on my page. This one is very J/C, so if that is not your thing, this may be the time to start scoping out the emergency exits. :-)

**Time On My Hands 7**

_Time on my hands._

A Human phrase. A fascinating one. Humans have a proclivity for anthropomorphizing abstract concepts. They are, by turns, as hungry as horses, as quiet as mice, as gentle as lambs and as sly as foxes. When they expose a secret, they let cats of bags. When they eavesdrop, they are flies on walls. When they are deceptive, they are wolves in sheep's clothing.

But their metaphorical treatment of time...

In human language, "time" is...a horse of a different color.

Humans save time. They kill time. They allow time to slip through their fingers and pass them by.

Time heals, flies, and marches on.

To a human, time is almost a physical thing. When they claim to have it "on their hands," they mean they have an excess of it, and they do not necessarily know what to do with that excess.

To a Vulcan, time is simply...time. Not a physical thing, but an abstraction. A way to make sense of entropy. It simply _is_.

But even I must admit: Lately, I have had rather an excess of time at my disposal.

I spent the first six months after _Voyager_'s arrival on Vulcan, first undergoing the _Fal-tor-voh_ therapy to reverse the deterioration of my neural peptides, then recovering from the process with my family. I was reunited with T'Pel, she who is my wife, and my children. The recovery period was...uneventful. One might even say "unexciting." If one were not Vulcan, that is.

When Admiral Janeway's invitation to review possible reassignments arrived, I was immediately intrigued. Aside from periods of meditation and gardening, idleness is not in my nature. Within 60 minutes of receiving her invitation, I had packed my bag, booked my passage to Earth and bid my family farewell.

That was eleven days ago. It is now a Friday afternoon in November, and I am sitting in a small Japanese restaurant off the Starfleet grounds with Admiral Janeway, Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine. Admiral Janeway invited me to this gathering, and while I was reluctant to accompany her I must admit that their conversation thus far has been...enlightening.

To wit: In the past thirty minutes I have learned that Lieutenant Kim's fiancée remained faithful to him while we were in the Delta Quadrant, and the two are once again discussing a formal commitment to one another. Lieutenant Kim's Mother thinks they might make an announcement to that effect at the upcoming Prixin celebration, and is, in the Admiral's words, "over the moon" about this possibility. I can only assume she does not mean this literally.

Lieutenants Torres and Paris have made plans to "ring in the New Year" on Risa. They are leaving their daughter Miral with Mister Paris's parents. Admiral Janeway wonders aloud if this means another Paris-Torres offspring will arrive within the year. Lieutenant Torres does not answer verbally, but her face turns a distinctly darker shade.

Seven of Nine's liaison with Captain Chakotay was short-lived. The two parted amicably some months ago and Seven has returned to Earth to work with Lieutenant Torres's _Voyager_ team. She also corresponds periodically with the EMH, who is waiting for his portable emitter to be returned, at which time he will have full rights as a sentient being. He will be permitted to choose assignments, earn income, own property and pursue relationships. Admiral Janeway looks up at Seven, who merely raises an eyebrow. The Admiral smiles inscrutably and sips her tea.

When the waiter arrives with our lunches, I am...relieved.

I believe I have just been privy to 30 uninterrupted minutes of, as Mister Paris might call it, "Girl Talk."

We eat in relative silence for several minutes, until Seven comments on the inefficiency of consuming noodles with chopsticks.

"It's a skill, Seven," the Admiral says. "It just takes practice." She is rather deft with her own chopsticks. This does not surprise me.

Nor does it surprise me that Lieutenant Torres's primary method for eating with chopsticks involves a great deal of stabbing.

The Admiral cocks her head to one side. "My contact on the Board says the Doc's emitter will be released just in time for the Prixin party," she says.

Seven looks up from her half-eaten bowl of noodles. "Are you certain?"

The Admiral nods. "It'll be released to him the day before."

"He is aware of the gathering?"

I glance at Lieutenant Torres, who nods without looking up from her plate of mostly raw seafood. "We sent him an invitation. He said he wanted to come but he wasn't sure he'd be able to." She skewers a very pink piece of nigiri with her chopstick. I look away.

Seven, who is never given to extraneous motion, is sitting particularly still. Her eyes are fixed on the Admiral. "How is his emitter being returned to him?" she asks.

"I assume the Board will send a runner to Starfleet Medical." The Admiral looks up quickly and her expression changes, as if a new idea has just occurred to her. "Would you like to be the one to return it to him, Seven?" She taps her chopsticks thoughtfully on the edge of her plate. "Your testimony made a huge impression on the Review Board. He'd probably like to thank you in person."

Seven gives a slight nod. "I would appreciate that Admiral. And thank you for suggesting that I testify before the Board."

"My pleasure, Seven."

We all return to our meals. Two minutes pass in silence, until the Admiral sets her chopsticks aside and picks up her tea again. She turns to me. "When will T'Pel and your family be joining you, Tuvok?"

I pause over my bowl of stir-fried tofu and vegetables. "In four days' time. We will spend a week traveling, and then arrive in Indiana the day before the Prixin celebration."

The Admiral smiles at me. "Sightseeing, Tuvok?"

I incline my head. "Indeed. My son Sek and his wife wish to visit several Terran landmarks. The Grand Canyon, the cave paintings at Lascaux, Uluru, several others."

"Are they bringing T'Meni?"

"They are." My granddaughter is now five years of age – very near the age of the Admiral's namesake and niece. "Will your sister be bringing Katie?"

"She will. I'm sure the girls will get along famously." The Admiral gives me a speculative look. "Sek's wife, T'Zael. Doesn't she teach at the Vulcan Science Academy?"

I set aside my chopsticks as well. "She is adjunct faculty there in the geology department."

The Admiral sips her tea. "I thought so. Vorik might appreciate meeting her."

I ponder this statement. Vorik was promoted to Lieutenant upon our return, but has since refused reassignment to a new vessel. I had assumed he preferred to wait for _Voyager_'s refit. Now I am uncertain. He has always had a keen interest in geology, however, perhaps even over engineering. "I will introduce them, Admiral," I say.

She smiles and nods in thanks, then turns to Lieutenant Torres. "When is the _Sagan_ due to arrive, B'Elanna?"

"The day before the party. Seems like that's when everything is happening." Lieutenant Torres pushes aside her empty plate. "Harry hoped they'd get here a little sooner, but diverting to Magnus III to rescue those terraformers cost them three days."

My gaze shifts from Lieutenant Torres to the Admiral. Surely, having sent the the _Sagan_ on their original mission and diverted the ship to the colony, she knows precisely when the ship will arrive at Earth. The Admiral takes a slow sip of her tea. "Have you seen the passenger manifest?"

Torres nods. "They all got on," she says. "Philicia and Sue, Mike and his boys, Hoke, Ken and his wife. They're all on their way."

The Admiral's fingers tighten around her teacup. "All?"

Torres glances at Seven. The young women exchange small smiles. "Oh, and Chakotay," Torres says. "He's bringing Sekaya and Koham and both the kids. Thanks for telling Harry where to find him."

"It was just a hunch," the Admiral says.

Torres smirks. "Right," she says. "My ass."

The Admiral hides her smile behind her teacup.

The waiter clears our empty plates and bowls and replaces them with four bowls of green tea sorbet. The three women continue to discuss the party plans over their desserts.

I have known Admiral Janeway for a very long time. But today I have a sudden insight into her character.

I believe I know why she prefers pool to chess.

She claims that chess bores her. But watching her now, listening to her discuss the upcoming Prixin celebration and the plans she has set in motion, I realize that chess does not play to her strengths the way pool does.

In pool, a player sets the cue ball in motion as a catalyst. It is a game that requires a player to understand how every ball on the table will react when touched in a precise way, to trust the physics and the potential energy of each moving part to induce a desired outcome.

Admiral Janeway is an extraordinarily good judge of character. She sees people exceptionally well – their weaknesses, strengths and potential.

Throughout her career, Admiral Janeway has used this ability to induce positive outcomes. She can, with a few careful words, move the people around her to act in ways that take advantage of their own best qualities and in turn motivate others to do the same. I believe this is how she inspires such loyalty. She takes the time to get to know her crew and determine how best to motivate them.

In the end, her ability to judge character so well and induce positive outcomes may be in large part what kept us all alive in the Delta Quadrant. She was able to consistently motivate her crew...and manipulate her adversaries. Sometimes at great cost to herself.

In less than an hour, she has used this ability to set in motion a reconciliation between Seven and the Doctor, a possible new career for Lieutenant Vorik, and a reunion for her crew. I wonder how many other new opportunities she has facilitated in the eight months since our return. I remember again why I chose to serve under her. And I realize...how much I miss _Voyager_.

We all finish our sorbet. Admiral Janeway thumbs the waiter's credit pad over all our objections. Seven, Lieutenant Torres and Admiral Janeway make plans to meet again in a week. I will be in Australia with my family then, but we will all see each other again at the Prixin celebration. I find myself looking forward to it with a level of anticipation that is probably unseemly.

Seven and Torres depart for the Engineering complex; Admiral Janeway and I depart together for HQ. She walks the streets of San Francisco in an unhurried fashion that is a marked contrast to her normal gait aboard _Voyager_, where a casual stroll was usually a luxury she could not afford. It unseasonably warm and sunny for November in San Francisco. I fall into step beside her easily, as if eight months have not passed.

We walk in silence for a time. I think back over the conversations I have just overheard, as well as our seven years together on _Voyager_. Many friendships were forged there, in the fires of constant struggle and danger. It was a difficult time and place to begin a relationship, but it seems that many of those relationships have fared well here in the Alpha Quadrant, where life is decidedly less life threatening. If the Paris-Torres marriage is any indication, some relationships have flourished.

But one in particular seems to have floundered.

I clasp my hands behind my back. "May I ask you a personal question, Admiral?"

"Of course."

"You honestly did not know Captain Chakotay was aboard the _Sagan_?"

She shakes her head. "The ship just departed Dorvan on Wednesday. I hadn't had a chance to look at the manifest yet. But I knew B'Elanna would know."

"Did you believe he might not have boarded the ship?"

She does not answer for a full minute. "We didn't part on the best of terms. I thought there was a possibility that he might not come."

"But you hoped that he would."

She does not hesitate. "Yes."

I glance down at her. Her face is completely expressionless. "Have you spoken to him?"

She blinks. "No. Not since the day he left with Seven."

Ah. I was already on my way to Vulcan by then. I did not realize that the relationship had lasted beyond the end of the debriefings.

It occurs to me that Seven's quest for a fully human existence is something else Admiral Janeway set in motion. And while she did not force Seven and Chakotay to attempt a romantic liaison, she may believe she was the catalyst for it, and for Chakotay's subsequent absence. It would not be at all like her to set something in motion without anticipating all possible outcomes. Perhaps she knew that it could happen, but did not believe that it would.

"Admiral," I begin, "I am undoubtedly not the ideal person to say this to you, but -"

She holds up her hand. "I know where this is going, Tuvok," she says. "You're going to tell me it's not my fault."

I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to continue.

She obliges. "I know it's not. I encouraged her to live a fully human life, and encouraged him to see her potential as more than Borg. The rest was their choice."

"So it was."

"And they're both adults." She waves her hand vaguely. "Or he is, anyway."

"She is...inexperienced," I agree. "Although quite attractive. By human standards."

"And Chakotay is nothing if not very human." Her tone is wry and amused. "Although he still should have known better."

"Indeed." We walk on. "Do you miss him?" I ask.

"Of course. He's my closest friend," she says, very quietly. "But I think we needed some time apart. To readjust and reassess."

"Do you think he'll stay?"

She chuckles. "If there's one thing I'm sure of these days, Tuvok, it's that I have no idea what Chakotay's thinking. Not anymore."

We walk the last few blocks toward the HQ complex in silence.

Captain Chakotay would not have been chosen for Command track and promoted through the ranks without also being a good judge of character. But Chakotay tends to act only on the positive qualities in those around him. This selective response allows him to be easily deceived – by me, for example, when I infiltrated his Maquis cell and joined the crew of the _Val Jean_. Chakotay is readily swayed by assurances of dedication to the causes he values. His choice to see and act on only the good in the people around him is both a strength and a weakness. He inspires great loyalty, but opens himself up to great betrayal.

He is easily manipulated, a quality that Admiral Janeway, a master manipulator, could not fail to use to her advantage – especially given that the moment she destroyed the Caretaker's array, he willingly shifted his loyalty to _Voyager_'s mission, and to her.

Their styles complemented each other well at the beginning of our journey.

But over the years she used her ability to manipulate others – and him – so often he came to expect it. He no longer saw only the positive in her.

For her part, she chose not to see the negative consequences her manipulation had on their relationship, both professional and personal.

They reversed roles, a reversal that could only result in disappointment – in each other and in themselves.

I am a Vulcan. But I have lived among humans for most of my adult life, and I am also a married man. I remember the intensity of their first meeting on _Voyager_'s Bridge. I observed their daily interactions from my station. I heard the tightness in their voices when I contacted them on New Earth, and saw the regret they would not express to each other upon their return. I observed his fatigue with her guilt and self-destructive streak. I observed her impatience with his easy acquiescence and eventual disinterest. Through many trials and struggles and tests, I watched them grow closer and I watched them grow apart.

In the Delta Quadrant, it was impossible for them to escape from each other. They had to maintain their professional relationship even while their friendship suffered.

Returning to the Alpha Quadrant has allowed them much-needed space and time. I can see that Admiral Janeway has returned to herself. She is once again using her ability to inspire in a positive way, rather than manipulating the people around her to her own ends. Perhaps Captain Chakotay has similarly rediscovered the honorable man he once was.

And I wonder what new shape their relationship might take, now that they have been able to reflect upon everything they've been through. When they are their best selves, working together toward a common goal, they are a force to be reckoned with.

I slow my steps as we approach the Admiral's office building. "Kathryn..." I begin. At the sound of her name she turns to look at me, as I knew she would. "Do you _want_ him to stay?"

She stares at me with a look that has cowed many a hostile alien. Then she exhales a long, slow breath. "Let me make one thing very clear, Tuvok. I do miss him. Very much. But I'm very content with my life here. And while I want my friend back more than I can express, I don't _need_ him. I'm looking forward to seeing him again, but I'm hardly...pining away like a lonely teenager."

"I did not say that you were."

"I know you didn't, my friend. But others have, and it's simply not true."

She turns away and takes a few slow, thoughtful steps toward the office building. Then she turns back to me, her shoulders set and her expression determined. "Chakotay and I lost something out there. But I can't figure out what it was, and I don't know if we can get it back. I hope we can. I'd like to try. But in the end, he needs to figure out what makes _him_ happy. I'll be ecstatic if decides to stay, and if we can somehow find our way back to each other. But if he needs to go to deep space or home to Dorvan to be happy, then I can live with that, too."

She has thought this through carefully. But I wonder if she has considered it from all possible angles. "What will you do if he asks you to go with him?"

She waves a dismissive hand. "He knows better."

"Does he?"

My question stops her short. She considers it, the expression on her face very like the one she wears while studying attacking ships on a viewscreen – or colorful balls on green felt. "Maybe not," she concedes. Then she gives me a lopsided smile I remember very well. "But I can't claim 'Captain's Prerogative' and dismiss him like I did out there. And frankly, I don't want to. Not anymore. If there's a compromise that makes us both happy, I'm willing to try to find it if he is."

I study her face in the bright afternoon sunlight. The signs of fatigue that were all too apparent at the end of our journey are gone. Her eyes are clear and her smile is genuine. She has set something in motion that will be difficult for her to control. But she is intrigued and, perhaps, exhilarated by it.

"It will not be easy," I warn.

"Our relationship hasn't been 'easy' for years. And maybe it never will be again. Right now I'd settle for 'cordial.' Maybe the rest will come in time."

"Maybe," I acknowledge. "I hope that it does."

Her head snaps up. "I'm not asking for your approval."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I know. But you have it nevertheless."

She gives a quick, decisive nod. "Then, because it is given freely, I'll take it, Tuvok. And I appreciate it. More than you know."

We part in front of her building after making plans to meet for a meal with my family when they arrive. I watch her bound up the steps of her office building. She seems...younger. Unburdened. I am gratified to see it.

She has used her time well.

I only hope that for both their sakes, Chakotay has done the same.

-END-

**NOTE:** Sorry this one took so long, gang. I really struggled with it. The rest should be somewhat easier. And the big ship-alicious J/C ending is nigh. I promise.


End file.
